Who is Nikita?
by kayleigh-ahs
Summary: Take a trip back into the past and see what made the unbeatable Nikita so one of a kind.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Nikita but I own this story.**

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"Mom! Dad!" Nikita shut the door behind her. She hadn't had to use her key to get in and that was weird.

"Mom!" she yelled again. No answer.

"Dad?" Nikita had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She tossed her purple back-pack into one of the kitchen-table chairs.

Nikita dug through the fridge and found a pear that was still good. She sat at the table and started on her homework.

_Man, _she thought, _multiplication is hard._ A third grader could only take so much of that stuff.

It began to get dark outside; Nikita hopped up from the chair and walked over to the kitchen/living room archway. She reached for the light switched and noticed a lamp was knocked over.

Huh . . .

Nikita flip on the light and walked into the living room. Something was missing.

_Where's mom's decorative music box? _Nikita studied the room . . .

_Where's the radio?_

Okay, something weird was defiantly going on here. Nikita bent down and picked up the lamp; as she stood back up she noticed something in the carpet. It was a red stain. Did she drop some jam? No, Mom didn't let her eat in the living room.

There were more stains down the hallway. Nikita followed them. She passed the laundry room and turned the corner.

Nikita scream and threw up onto the carpet. Her father was lying on the floor with a deep gash in his throat.

She crouched next to her dad but was afraid to touch him. She looked up and saw someone lying on the floor of her bed room. Nikita gasped. She stepped over her father and ran to her mother. But her mom wasn't there anymore; just her body with a severed neck.

Nikita screamed and scream. She cried so hard she couldn't see for hours. At around ten at night, she walked past her dead parents and went to the house phone.

She dialed nine-one-one.

"Hello, New Jersey Police Department, what's your emergency?" said a dead voice.

"My name is Nikita Knowles, I'm eight. M-my parents have been murdered." Her voice cracked on the last word and she cried again.

The voice came to life. "What is your address?"

Nikita answered the woman.

"The police are on their way, hang in there."

Nikita stood outside wrapped in a blanket as she watched men carry out large black bags from the house. She didn't see her parents and this confused her. When she asked an officer, the man gave her a sad look but didn't answer.

And _that_ irritated Nikita; she stuck her tongue out at him.

"What's going to happen next?" she asked him.

"You are going to go stay with some nice people until we find your relatives."

"I have an Aunt," she suggested.

"And where does she live?"

"She died two years ago,"

The man sighed.

"Excuse me," said a woman. "My name is Jennifer Perez," she looked at a clip board in her hand. "I am part of Social Services and I'm here to get Nikita Knowles." She looked at the officer and handed him a piece of paper. "You must be Nikita, I'm Jennifer. You are going to come with me tonight." She held her hand out to Nikita.

Nikita didn't have anywhere else to go so she took her hand. They both got into a black car and Nikita said good-bye to her old life forever.

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**It is short, I know. Please review-the more I get the faster I update. **

**-Kayleigh**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nikita but I do own this story!**

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Nikita opened her eyes and found herself in a small room. It had a dresser and a doll house. She sat up and looked around. Where the heck was she? And then it flooded back to her—the blood, her parents, the scary black bags carried from her house.

Nikita screamed. Her mom, her dad—dead. That couldn't be possible; Dad was so strong. He always protected her family. But he _was _gone. Nikita curled into a ball on the bed. The door burst open and a elderly woman came in. She kneeled on the ground next to Nikita and brushed her hair out of her face.

"Shh, it's alright," she tried to comfort the crying girl. But Nikita would not allow that. She couldn't get the picture of her mom's neck out her mind.

"Get away from me!" she finally yelled to the stranger. "Nothing is alright," Nikita pulled the quilt over her head and pretended the woman wasn't there.

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Days had passed and that slowly turn into weeks. Nikita would come out of her room only to eat and bathe. She didn't want anything to do with woman who cooked for her. She just wanted her mom. Was that too much to ask for?

The woman—Mrs. Jenks—tried to talk to her about school, friends, anything to get her mind back down to Earth. But Nikita was completely drained of caring. She stayed with Mrs. Jenks for about a month when Jennifer Perez came. She had simply shown up with no warning.

She had talked with Mrs. Jenks for a long time when she finally acknowledged Nikita.

"Nikita, we found another family for you to stay with."

Nikita just looked at her. What did it matter to her, anyway? Nikita didn't want to go stay with fifty foster families; she wanted her mom and dad.

Mrs. Jenks let Nikita take some of the clothing she had bought for her. Nikita took them without a thank you and when she left with Perez, she didn't look back. Nikita climbed into the familiar black car and watched the city go by.

She was an emotionless statue. Nothing could faze her and she didn't care about the world. That was the first time Nikita realized it really was a dog eat dog world. To survive she'd have to be tough and take care of herself. She could do that; she'd learn how.

Nothing like this was going to happen to her again. Ever.

The car pulled into the drive way of an old looking house. The outside of it was a faded red and the porch looked as though it was falling in.

Perez walked with Nikita to the front door; she pounded her fist on it and waited. Nikita rocked on her heels. She heard some yelling inside and then a man opened the door.

"You must be the Social worker." He said.

"Yes, my name is Jennifer Perez, and this is Nikita,"

The man smiled at the young girl and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Gary,"

Nikita looked at his hand and balled hers into little fist. Gary chuckled and stepped to the side.

"Come on in," he said.

Perez nodded and had to give Nikita a little push. Nikita had a bad feeling about this place but kept her mouth shut.

Perez made sure Nikita was comfortable before she left but, frankly, Nikita didn't care if she was here or not. It really didn't make a difference.

Gary wasn't the only adult that lived here; he had a wife. Her name was Caroline. She had pale skin with brown hair. She looked tired, like she was sick. Caroline made dinner that night, mac and cheese. She didn't talk to Nikita very much but Gary was harassing her with questions.

"So Nikita, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No,"

"Okay, do you have any hobbies?"

"No,"

It went on and on until Caroline suggested Nikita wash up for bed. She did what she was told and that night, she could here Caroline and Gary fighting. Nikita put the pillow over her head and waited for morning to arrive.

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**Please review. I'll update faster if you do. If you have read any of my other stories you'd know I am known for my short chapters, but I update fast. ….for the most part anyway. **

**-Kayleigh**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Nikita, but I do own this story so back off!**

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Nikita wasn't sure but something was off about Gary …

Maybe it was the fact that he was an obvious alcoholic.

Or possibly the way he would slap Caroline but then apologize to the point of her comforting him.

None of this made sense to Nikita. Sure her parents hadn't been perfect but her dad never hit her mom. They'd never been drunk in front of her either.

She had only been with Caroline and Gary for about a week when Nikita decided that she flat-out didn't like Gary. He was lazy, rude, and dumb; all on top of being a drunk and abusive.

Caroline was the one who worked in the family. She had two jobs; one, she worked as the UPS women and two, a late shift at the 3rd Street Pub. Somehow she supported her husband the drunk, and Nikita the orphan.

But, of course, there was also money for foster parents for taking in a kid. Nikita hadn't known this at the time. She thought Caroline was a saint. She worked hard, cooked well, and got Nikita to school on time. She could do it all.

For the past five weeks of her live, she wasn't Nikita. She hardly felt like a person. She simply went through the motions of life; letting people and time pass by her. She didn't care. She didn't _want_ to care.

Why should she care about anyone?

The way she recently viewed the world was—you can't trust anyone and you can't let a single soul in. keeping people away was the only way Nikita knew how to protect herself.

The world is a place of fear and violence; truly jubilant moments are rare.

However, she knew she had to keep her chin up. Her father always did when times got rough. She had to live each day and never give up.

Otherwise, she'd no longer be sane.

Nikita needed that spark, that vivacious demeanor to keep her going. She felt week without it. If someone spoke to her and she didn't have a sassy remark, she felt vulnerable. She didn't know why. It was just something she did….

Nikita took a deep breath and dropped her back pack onto the floor of her room. Caroling was working late tonight so Gary was cooking. UGH! He was such a terrible chef. They'd probably be having easy-mac. Yum.

Nikita went to the living room and got onto the computer. She spent about an hour randomly browsing the internet for stupid things. It wasn't productive and it wasn't for fun; it was just something to do.

Gary came home around four-thirty –who knows where he's been—smelling like beer. He walked over to Nikita and looked over her shoulder.

"Whatcha doin, kid?" he asked.

"You stink,"

Gary chuckled and ruffled Nikita's hair. She slapped his hand away.

"Quit," she hissed.

Gary flicked her in the back of the head.

"Chill out, Nikki,"

"Don't call me that,"

"Aw, but it's a cute nick name,"

Nikita rolled her eyes. "What the hell is for dinner?"

"Nothin if you don't watch your mouth,"

Nikita closed down the website and pushed away from the desk. She turned her back on Gary.

"Call me when it's ready," she called.

Gary rolled his eyes and sat down to watch some T.V.

Nikita laid on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She didn't bother to do her homework; she never did. Her grades were most likely straight D's. Hey, it was a passing grade so there's nothing to worry about.

Nikita began to drift into unconsciousness when Gary's loud voice boomed through the house. From the sound of it, his favorite team was winning. Nikita groaned.

_I'm gonna kill that guy one of these days…._ She thought as she fell asleep.

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**Please review; I only have one and I am worried no one likes the story. I will update faster with the more reviews I get.**

**-Kayleigh**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nikita but I do own this story**

**~(~**

Nikita sat on the floor and leaned against the wall as she watch Caroline run about the kitchen. She was dressed in her waitress's uniform and was preparing dinner. The entire house smelled of delicious spaghetti sauce. Garlic bread was cooking face-up in the oven and Caroline constantly checked her old watch.

Watching her, Nikita realized that Caroline was beautiful. Not the supermodel, Hollywood hot, but the motherly beautiful. Caroline always looked worn out. Her cropped brown hair was always pulled into a boring bun, her skin had no color and she always had purple blotches under her eyes.

However, she was constantly smiling. Her eyes were always bright and she spoke kindly to everyone.

No, scratch that, she spoke kindly to everyone _but_ Gary.

When she spoke to him it was with disdain, disappointment, and near dislike. And Gary spoke to her like he was pleased by her irritable mood half the time.

This didn't make any sense to Nikita. It seemed as though Caroline sincerely loathed Gary. She seemed disgusted by him. Yet he was happy about that?

Adults were so confusing.

"Nikita," Caroline called as she set a steaming bowl on the ugly table. Nikita walked over the table and sat down. Caroline was on one side of her while Gary was on the other. Gary began to reach for his fork. Caroline slapped his hand away.

"Prayer, Gary," She took Nikita's hand and his. She and Nikita bowed their heads and Gary snorted. Caroline said a short prayer and then released their hands.

"You, working late tonight?" Said Gary around a mouth full of noodles.

"Yes, Gary,"

"Well, you've been working late for the past two weeks. When you gonna stay home with your family?"

Nikita didn't like the idea of being part of _Gary's_ family.

"When you have a job, Gary, then we can afford for me to stay home."

Gary snorted. "I don't have time for a job, Caroline,"

Caroline laughed without humor. "Then what's the problem? If you don't have time for job then I have to work two."

"I'm not getting the satisfaction I need."

"Gary!" Caroline looked at Nikita nervously. Nikita acted as though she didn't hear the conversation. "Don't say things like that!"

"What's wrong with what I said? It's my house—I'll say what want."

"You are not the only person who lives in this house. So bite your tongue."

"This little bitch doesn't change nothing round here. I'll say what's on my mind." He gestured to Nikita with his fork. Gary stood up loudly and marched down the hall, bowl in hand. Moments later a door slammed shut.

Nikita didn't know what to say and Caroline was blushing rose-red.

"Sorry about that, Nikita."

"It's ok,"

Caroline slammed her fist onto the table, causing Nikita to jump.

"It sure as hell is not ok,"

They both at there for a moment. "I have to go to work," said Caroline. She stood and pulled her jacket on. Caroline slammed the door shut behind her.

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**Please review.**

**-Kayleigh**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Nikita but I do own this story**

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"_Nikita, come on! We're going to be late."_

"_I am, mom, jeez," Nikita pulled her bag onto her back and opened her bedroom door. Her mom was waiting for in the kitchen with the back door open._

"_See, we aren't late," said Nikita._

"_Not yet,"_

_Nikita's mom put her hand on her daughter's back and pushed her lightly out the door. She reached for her key but her phone started ring. Nikita's mom pulled out her old flip phone and answered._

"_Yes, I am leaving the house right now… No, I have to take my daughter to school." She continued to talk into the microphone while she turned away from the door, keys in hand._

_Nikita was already in the passenger seat of the car and her mom climbed in quickly. She started the car and put her seatbelt on. _

"_You didn't lock the door."_

_Nikita's mom looked at her watch. "No time, I'll just come back and lock it over lunch, nothing will happen anyway . . ."_

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Nikita sat on her bed and stared at the wall ahead of her. Her room was lit by the small amount of moon light shining through the window. The last memory of her mother had haunted her for the past four nights. It came in the form of a dream and in the form of a flashback.

If her mother had locked the door this would have never happened . . . If Nikita hadn't been running late her mother would've locked the door.

It was Nikita's fault. She hadn't realized that until now. This memory used to be unimportant.

And she could never take it back.

She would forever be an orphan.

Nobody would want her; she herself was a nobody. Nikita didn't belong anywhere. She had no purpose. She was the reason her parents were dead . . . she was a murderer.

Nikita wiped away the tears falling down her cheek.

She had to find a way to get rid of her pain. She just didn't know how.

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Nikita woke to the sound of Gary's loud cough/laugh. A few seconds later she heard the T.V. blaring America's Funniest Home Videos. Nikita rubbed her eyes and climb out of bed. She looked at the clock on the bedside table: 9:47 A.M.

The first day of her summer was going to be a drag. Nikita slid on a black tee and a pair of handy-me-down jeans. She ripped a brush through her hair and pulled it back into a messy ponytail.

Nikita left her room and went to the kitchen to find something to eat.

"About time you got up," Said Gary.

"Yeah, 'cause you've been up so long."

"I told you to quit sassin' me, kid,"

Nikita rolled her eyes.

"You better answer me, Nikki,'

"Fine, fuck off," she said slowly, as if talking to a mentally disabled person.

Nikita grabbed a pop tart out of the cabinet and began ripping open the wrapping. And then, suddenly, something was pulling her hair—hard. Nikita gasped and tried to fight but Gary tightened his grip and held her against the counter.

"Do not talk to me like that. I'm your daddy now, got it?" he said between his teeth.

Nikita tried to nod.

"Can't hear you,"

"Yes!"

Gary released her and pushed her down onto the floor. Nikita sniffed and rubbed her head.

"Quit crying like a baby. It's time for you to grow up, 'cause you got no one in this world."

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**I have a feeling Gary had a big influence on Nikita as a child. Please review.**

**-Kayleigh**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer-I do not own any Nikita but I do own this story so back off!**

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_1992_

"Happy Birthday, Nikita,"

Nikita opened her eyes to see Caroline's tired ones above her. She was confused but then remembered the date; July 19th.

Nikita rubbed her eyes and sat up slowly.

"Thanks." She mumbled.

Caroline smiled. "How does it feel to be nine years old today?"

Nikita looked at her. "No different,"

Caroline chucked. "Get dressed," she ordered as she walked out of the room. Caroline shut the door behind her.

Nikita rolled her eyes but pulled on a pair of too-small jeans and an old 'New Kids on the Block' tee shirt. She looked in the mirror, shrugged, and left the room.

The door to Caroline and Gary's room was open and exposed a half-naked Gary sprawled out in bed. Nikita made a face of disgust. She grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it shut—no, slammed it shut. On the other side she heard Gary cuss and then heard a thump as he fell out of bed. Nikita smiled and continued down the hall to the kitchen.

Caroline was there as usual. It seemed as though that was the only place Nikita ever saw her. She was making eggs and bacon! Nikita hadn't had that simple meal in nearly a year and she missed it. The table was already set so Nikita just sat down and patiently waited.

Then Gary came in. Ugh, that man was so gross. He was still dressed in a dirty, gray under shirt and old boxers. Can't he at least put on some pants?

Gary sat across from Nikita.

"Caroline,"

"Hm,"

"That smells so good. Is it almost done?"

"No,"

"What do you mean? You've been up for like forty-five minutes."

"I was just kidding, Gary, yes I am almost done."

Gary grumbled incoherently and the looked at Nikita.

"Hey, kid,"

Nikita nodded.

"It's your birthday right?"

"You asked me that yesterday."

"Nikita," said Caroline, "just answer him,"

Nikita looked at Caroline with wide eyes but she wasn't paying attention to her.

"I'm waitin',"

"Yes, it's my birthday."

"Thought so, what, are you like seven?

"I'm nine, Gary,"

Caroline set the bowls of food on the table and that completely sidetracked Gary. Caroline sat down to join them.

"So, Nikita, what do you want to do today?"

"Nothing,"

"Nothing?"

"Nope, nothing,"

"Why not?"

"Just don't want to,'

"Okay . . . are you—

"Doesn't matter Caroline! You got work to get to anyway, or do you want to pack your bags?"

"Excuse me?" Caroline looked at him with astonishment. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," Gary belched and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Caroline stood up and glowered at him. "Gary, I live here just as much as you do and you have to stop threatening with kicking me out every time I say something you don't like." She yelled. Gary pushed away from the table and stood towering above her.

"You better take that back. You are married to me. You listen to me."

"Really? Well you can just—

Gary slapped her across the face. Caroline's head whipped with the force.

"You don't be disrespectful to me, _honey._ Next time you treat me like that, expect more than a little pop."

Gary grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and stalked out of the room. Moments later the echo of the television was heard all through the house.

Caroline pressed her palm against her red cheek.

"Ass," she whispered then gasped slightly and looked at Nikita.

"Go to your room." She said.

"But—

"Now,"

Nikita slid out of the wooden chair and headed that way. When she passed Gary she stopped and looked at him.

It took a second for him to notice her but he finally did.

"What the hell do you want?"

Nikita shook her head. "Nothing,"

"Then get out of here!" he waved his hand at her and beer went everywhere.

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**Overreaction on both Gary and Caroline's part but I believe they had a terrible marriage to begin with. I plan on getting into that a bit, anyway, please review. The more I get the faster I update.**

**-Kayleigh**


	7. Chapter 7

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_1993_

Nikita, now ten and a half, often thought back to her first birthday with Gary and Caroline. It was horrible yes, but she had learned something very important to her survival here. Who Gary truly was; what exactly he was capable of. Gary was a drunk—no, worse than that—a violent drunk. If anything got in his way, he'd put it down.

But Gary didn't only do harm on the outside; he tore people up on the inside. He was manipulative. Gary tormented people until they gave up.

And, Nikita was about to give in. She couldn't stand him any longer. But were would she go? Nikita didn't have anybody but Caroline and Gary. It was just like he said.

"_You don't have anyone . . . I'm your daddy now... You gotta respect me."_

He would never be a father figure to her. Ever. Gary couldn't be a daddy to his own, unlucky, kid.

Nikita knew she had to show him respect, but he would never have it. There was no way for Gary to earn her respect and loyalty because of what he had done to Caroline—to her.

And the sad part was, Nikita was being messed up by this tyrant. It was just like in the movies; a bully bullies and the victim eventually loses it. But Nikita thought of it this way: what more can she lose? If you don't have anything to begin with, you don't lose anything in the end.

At least she hasn't lost her sanity . . . but, she was on her way.

~(~

Nikita sat on the couch and watched the television; praying for a cancellation or at least a delay. The snow had been heavily falling from the sky for the past nine hours and most businesses had closed for the day.

Caroline came rushing in and sat down next to her.

"Has it said anything about the restaurant, yet?"

"No,"

"I doubt it'll be on there even if it closed but I still wanted to check."

"Maybe it's on the internet?"

"Oh, I can't believe I forgot to check that!"

Nikita's school scrolled across the bottom of the T.V. screen.

"Yes!" she and Caroline said at the same time. They looked at each other and smiled.

"I'm off and I'm guessing you are, too."

Nikita nodded.

"Then I know exactly what we're going to do!"

Caroline was in a great mood. She turned on the radio and sung to it while she taught Nikita how to make many things. Such as chocolate chip cookies, cinnamon rolls, and vanilla pudding. Nikita had never done this with her mom and was somewhat excited about knowing how to make such delicious, unhealthy treats. She and Caroline joked and laughed together the entire day.

Nikita experienced very few days like this with her foster family. Caroline was healing her. But at the same time, Gary was tearing her down.

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**It's short … too bad. **

**To make this story move more quickly, I am going to set it up by the main events with in months or even a year. It would be boring to read about every single day of her life as a kid. However, if you disagree, please tell me and I will see what I can do.**

**-Kayleigh **


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own any Nikita but I do own this story so back off. :D**

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A warm breeze brushed against Nikita face as she lay in the soft grass of a small, sad park. It had one swing, one slide, and a teeter-totter. It sucked, but the feel of July on her skin was worth it. Nikita blocked out the screaming children, running around throwing rubber footballs and old baseballs. She ignored the sound of girls squealing as they were chased by boys in an endless game of tag.

It was just her and the Sun.

Though summers had passed before, this time she could enjoy it. No, better than that. She could _feel_ it. She could feel the heat baking her skin. She could feel the grass tickle her neck. She could feel the wind caress her cheek. It felt nice.

Nikita was truly beginning to feel whole again. Her parents were gone but she was still here. She was still breathing. She was alive.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Nikita opened her eyes and saw a little girl above her, staring.

"Are you deaf?" She said. Her fair skin was covered in freckles and her wild red hair was blowing everywhere.

"Uh . . ." Nikita said brilliantly.

The little girl rolled her green eyes. "Why are you laying here all alone? Huh?"

Nikita just stared at her.

"What, are you mute, too?"

"No."

"Well, what are doing all over here alone?"

Nikita closed her eyes. "Why are you bothering me?"

"Well, aren't you rude, missy."

"Me?" Nikita opened her eyes. The girl was sitting cross-legged next to her.

"You have to help me."

"What?"

"I said: you have to help me."

"With what?"

"Those stupid boys over there got my Frisbee stuck in that tree!"

Nikita looked at the tall Oak Tree across the park.

"Go ask someone else."

"No,"

"Even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to climb that tree."

"Who said you got to climb it?"

"Uh, how else would I get it?"

"Figure it out,"

"If I get your stupid toy, will you leave me alone?"

"Maybe,"

Nikita huffed and go to her feet. She started to stomp toward the tree while the girl skipped beside her.

"So what's your name?" the red-head asked.

"Nikita,"

"Cool. Mine is Lynette Jean McLaughlin. Unique right?"

"Uh, sure?"

"But your name is kind of weird, too."

"Weird?"

"Yeah, I've never heard the name Nikita before. I'll call you Nikki instead. 'Because it's easier to say."

Nikita rolled her eyes. She hated that nickname.

They reached the tree and Nikita looked up its tall branches.

"I'm not going to be able to get that." She said.

"Sure you will,"

Nikita looked down at Lynette, who happened to be sitting on the ground peacefully. She rolled her eyes—again.

Nikita circled the tree. The lowest branch was ten feet above her head. So how was she going to get the Frisbee? Nikita jumped, trying to reach the closest branch. Fail. She wrapped her arms around the trunk to pull herself up but ended up with a bunch of scratches on her arms.

She noticed a small rock on the ground. Nikita bent and picked it up. She chucked the rock at the blue Frisbee but it fell to the ground with a thump, and didn't bring her target with it.

Nikita popped her knuckles as she thought. Then she got an idea. Nikita took off her beat up tennis shoes and threw one into the tree. It knocked the Frisbee down a few branches and her shoe landed on the ground a few feet away.

She tossed her other shoe into the tree and the Frisbee fell to the ground; along with the shoe.

Nikita smiled with satisfaction.

"Good job," Lynette said. She picked up the Frisbee and yelled at some boys. Nikita watched. One of the boys waved at Lynette and she threw the Frisbee at him. Lynette turned to Nikita.

"You saved me a lot of work,"

"That wasn't even your Frisbee?" Nikita became irritated.

"No. But those butt heads threatened to tell my mom I got it stuck up there. You know what that's like."

Nikita swallowed. "Sure, kid,"

"People are going to use you all your life, better get used to it now rather than later . . . At least, that's what my momma says."

"She's a smart momma," Nikita said while missing her own.

"Yeah, she also says you got to be creative when solving a problem. Otherwise, people will beat you to it."

"How old are you?"

"Me? Well, I'm seven."

"You have got a lot to learn. Always listen to your mom . . . now leave me alone!"

Nikita turned Lynette toward the playground and pushed her in that direction. Lynette ran toward a group of friends without looking back. People never look back anymore.

Nikita had a feeling she would always remember that kid.

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**Please review. The more I get the faster I update.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Nikita but I do own this story. **

~(~

_1995_

Fifteen year old Nikita lost her second mother on December 20, 1995. She didn't cry; she didn't shed a tear. Nikita mourned Caroline silently. And Gary? He had his own way of dealing with things.

"Nikita, you God damned lazy piece of shit! Were the hell is my breakfast?" He screamed at her.

"Get it yourself, jackass." Nikita had skipped school that day; it was now ten-forty-five.

Caroline had been dead for one month and two days. School was almost out and social workers were trying to figure out what to do with her. Gary, who had no job, no money, and no family, was living the motions of life, drunkenly.

"We have no fucking food in this damn house!" Gary slammed the refrigerator door shut.

"And whose fault is that?"

Gary had slapped her: partially because of the alcohol in his system and mostly because that was just him. Nikita had taken the hit. Gary was so much bigger than her five feet and four inches; it wouldn't have made sense for her to fight back.

"Go get yourself a fucking job, Nikki! Then maybe then you can continue to live here!"

"Ha! Where are you getting all your booze money? Huh?"

"You are nothing but a selfish orphan. You lucky I took you in!"

"Lucky? You just want the government's money. Caroline was the one who took me in . . . then you killed her."

Gary's eyes bulged and his face went red. Nikita had gone far enough to receive another blow—and she did. Gary drew back his fist and gave the petit girl a black eye. However, Gary did end with that. He punched her repeatedly and left Nikita knocked out on the kitchen floor for about twenty minutes.

When Nikita regained her consciousness, her head was spinning, her face was throbbing, and she couldn't see out of her right eye.

Nikita pulled herself up quietly with the help of the counter. She grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and shoved it into her pocket. Nikita went to her room and locked the door behind her. She grabbed her old duffel bag from underneath the bed and began shoving it full of clothing. She put almost everything she owned in the bag: she didn't own much.

Gary was watching T.V. as Nikita snuck into the kitchen to get something. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail and had cut her bangs so that they covered her eye. Nikita set her duffel bag onto the floor carefully and grabbed a beer bottle from the refrigerator.

Quietly she snuck behind Gary. He was watching America's Funniest Home Videos; belly chuckling every time a man was hit in his privates by his son. Nikita raised the bottle above her head. Gary saw her shadow.

"What the—" He was cut off from the glass bottle smashing into his head. Gary's forehead was split open and he was momentarily knocked out.

Nikita remained frozen for a few seconds and then dropped the bottle to the ground. She ran quickly to his bed room and started digging through his drawers for money. She found a total of fifteen dollars and thirty seven cents. Nikita shoved the money into her pocket.

She rounded the corner back to the kitchen to get her bag and Gary grabbed her from behind. Nikita scream and served her enemy an elbow-to-the-gut. He lost his breath and dropped Nikita. She ran for her bag. Gary grabbed her wrist and yanked _hard. _

Nikita fell to the ground_. _Gary got on top of her and pinned her to the ground. Nikita screamed. Gary laughed evilly. Gary started ripping Nikita's shirt open and she thrashed.

Nikita grabbed the leg of one of the kitchen chairs and pulled it down on Gary. The distraction gave the second she need. Nikita through her head into Gary's forehead, and they both cried out in pain. He reached up to hold his forehead and Nikita punched him as hard as she could in the eye—the _right_ eye.

She was able to get out from underneath of him, grab her bag and dash. Nikita pulled the door open and didn't bother closing it.

She ran from the house. She ran and ran and ran. Gary made no move to follow her.

Nikita followed the highway for a while. Not to hitch hike, but to pay her respects. Nikita came to what she was looking for: a small wooden cross stabbing the ground. It stood for the death of the innocent during a car accident. And to her, it stood for Caroline.

Nikita could have just gone to the cemetery where Caroline's widowed father buried her but he despised her. And if he saw Nikita there one more time, he had said, he'd kill her. Nikita didn't know why. Maybe he thought she was Gary's offspring. If she were, she'd kill herself.

Nikita knelt before the cross.

"I'm sorry, Caroline." She whispered. If only Caroline's job hadn't insisted she come to work that day. If only the weather hadn't been so bad. If only Gary hadn't made her work two jobs. She wouldn't have been on the road nine P.M. for her_ first_ job. It was Gary's fault.

"Caroline," Nikita said, "I have no idea where to go or what to do. I'm unwanted in everyone's eyes but yours. And you left me."

A single tear flowed down Nikita's purple cheeks. She bowed her head and did something she had never done before: she prayed.

~(~

Twenty year old Michael cried on April 22, 1995. It was the second time he had ever cried out of joy; the first being when he was finally, legally, bound to Elizabeth.

_Elizabeth. _ She was the strings holding him to this world. He loved her. To Michael, those words had power. Not only did he love Elizabeth, but she loved him, too. She was so quiet, peaceful, calm, and so beautiful. How did a man of sarcasm and mischief deserve a woman as perfect as her?

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—and would see—he was certain.

Her skin was delicate and her hair brown and so soft. Her voice was enough to calm him down after days of stress. Her green eyes always held a secret.

Michael had never believed in love at first sight; lust, sure, but not love. He hardly believed in love before he got to know Elizabeth.

Of course lust _was_ his first thought when her saw her in the eleventh grade. She was tall with long hair, nice legs and a hot figure. He was on the chase, just as much as every single boy there. But she wanted him. He was blessed.

And now, two years later, they turned their love into a beautiful baby girl named Sarah Ann Samualle. She weighed six pounds and eleven ounces with a pair of lungs like no other. She was the second person he loved. She was as beautiful as her mother. On that day, Michael forgot all other sorrow in the world.

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**REVIEW PLEASE. The no review thing is really discouraging. **

**-Kayleigh**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but this story plot**

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_1995_

Nikita crouched in the bushes outside of their house for a long time. She waited for them to leave. She waited and waited. Then finally, a golden colored van pulled out of the gravel driveway. The windshield revealed a man and woman; both middle-aged with dark skin. The man was driving while the woman was reaching into the back seat for something.

Nikita waited for them to round the corner and join traffic before she snuck over to the back door. Nikita checked the knob—locked. She adjusted her duffel and then kicked the door in. Nikita stepped into the kitchen quickly and set the broken door against its frame. She looked around the familiar kitchen that was now a neutral brown instead of pastel yellow.

Nikita walked into the living room. Everything was different. It was plain and neutral—it no longer screamed Knowles. Nikita left the living room and went down the hallway. She stepped over the area where her father's dead body had lain. Nikita stopped at the door to the master bedroom. The door was wide open and Nikita almost cried by the change.

Everything was so different. Her parents, her life, had all been thrown away and covered up with by ugly brown paint. Nikita clenched her fist and continued to her own room—stepping over the spot where her mother bled to death. Nikita opened the door and, at first, anger washed over her. The room was blue—baby blue—with stuffed animals all around. However, she realized something; there was a crib and a changing table.

On the wall behind the crib was a mural. A mural that Nikita's mother had painted. It was a frame of flower, leaves, and butterflies. It had bordered her name, but now, a different name had been painted over hers. _Jackson Carter Pothitakis. _Nikita's heart ached. She lightly touched the painting on the wall. She had hated that mural as a kid. She thought it was ugly. However, it was the only thing she had left. She stared at it for a while; memorizing each flower.

~(~

Michael woke to the sound of his young daughter crying. Elizabeth started to get up from bed.

"No, I'll get her," He said tiredly. Elizabeth buried herself back into the blankets.

Michael dragged himself out of bed and went down the narrow hallway that led to the child's room. Michael bent into her old crib and picked up the wailing kid. He shushed her and comforted her but she continued to cry. Michael carried her to the kitchen and warmed up a bottle of formula. Sarah chugged it. Michael smiled as his daughters eyes began to close.

Michael sat in one of the kitchen chairs. He balanced Sarah with one hand and started sifting through the mail on the table with the other.

_Bill, bill, bill . . ._

Michaels sighed. The last envelope caught his attention though. It was addressed to him, that wasn't unusual. However it was from the military. Michael ripped it open and read through it quickly. He smashed the letter in his fist.

All through high school Michael had dreamed of joining the military. He wanted to protect his country. His father had, his grandfather had, and his great-grandfather had. It was his turn. But he had never thought he would have a wife, a child . . . a daughter.

Michael would have to leave his family.

How long would he be gone?

Where was he going?

Would he be able to come back to his family?

~(~

Nikita had been a "missing child" for two weeks. She knew Gary wouldn't be after her. However, she was certain she had a social worker on her trail.

She had gone into a super market just to cool off from the heat when she saw a picture of herself. It was an old photo. Possibly from her 12th or 13th birthday. She studied the photo. No reward money was wanted. Go figure. There was only a number and a name: Jennifer Perez.

The name sounded familiar to Nikita. She wasn't sure where she had heard it. Although, she knew it meant something.

Nikita tore the parchment from the corkboard and ran outside. She went to the nearest payphone and deposited fifty cents. She punched in the number from the paper.

"Agent Perez," answered a female voice. Nikita didn't say anything.

"Hello?" said the voice.

"Um, hello," replied Nikita with a lump in her throat. She knew the voice. It had been years since Perez had even checked up on her. She never actually cared for Nikita. So why was she the only one looking for her?

"Who is this?" Perez asked.

"Perez . . ." Nikita blinked against tears.

"Yes?"

"No more."

"No more what? Who _is_ this!"

"Quit looking for me; I'm gone."

"Is this Emily? Or Avalon? Come on kid, I have so many I'm looking for. Just give me a name and I'll come get you."

"Nikita, Perez, Nikita Knowles,"

"Nikita Knowles . . . where are you? I'm on my way."

Nikita slammed the phone into its cradle. No one was coming to get her. Nikita stepped away from the phone. She sat down on the sidewalk and leaned against the gas station wall. She should be upset. She _should_ be almost to the point of suicide. But she didn't feel anything; nothing but the kiss of the summer breeze.

Her birthday was tomorrow. She'd be sixteen. The number had seemed so far and inexistent to her when she was young and kept away from the pain of the world. Now she wanted to go back. Who wouldn't?

"Ronny, come on!"

Nikita looked up from her isolation. Her eyes locked with a boy's. _Boy_ might be the wrong word. He was tall, muscular, and staring at her. He looked to be about eighteen. He was wearing faded jeans and a gray tee. The only thing she couldn't see was his face for it was hidden in the night shadows. Nikita stared back.

Another man jogged up to him. It was then Nikita noticed there was a huge group of people across the street from her. Some of them where looking at her, however, most were looking at the two, solitude men.

Nikita curled her knees into her chest and pulled her duffel closer. The two men were talking but Nikita couldn't hear a word that was said.

"Hey," the man yelled at Nikita. She was already looking at him. Nikita lifted her hand and waved hesitantly.

The man began crossing the street toward her.

_Uh oh, _Nikita thought. Her body tensed and she readied herself for a fight.

The man stopped many feet in front of her.

"What?" Nikita said hoarsely.

He took a few steps toward her and kneeled.

"I'm, Ronny," he held out his hand to Nikita. She didn't move.

"Hey, uh," he said awkwardly. "You look like you need something to eat . . . maybe even a place to sleep."

Nikita just looked at him.

"We got an extra mattress since Jordan got arrested . . ." Ronny tilted his head and looked at Nikita. He stood and started backing up. "Well," he said, "I guess I'll see you around. . ." He began to slowly walk away.

"Wait!" Nikita shouted without thinking. Ronny stopped and looked at her. "I-I'll go with you . . . please."

Ronny smiled. "You sure 'bout that, kid?"

"Not at all," Nikita stood.

Ronny chuckled. "Come on," he said and Nikita followed him to the group.

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**-Kayleigh **


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